Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed - your feedback is greatly appreciated! I won't leave you in suspense any longer . . .
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Betty lazily opened her eyes; her head was pounding and her mouth was dry and fuzzy feeling. The morning sunlight streaming in from the windows in Daniel's office was too much for her massive hangover. Wait – Daniel's office? What the hell was she doing in Daniel's office so early . . . and naked? She suddenly sensed his bare chest rising and falling beneath her head and chest . . . his muscular legs tangled with hers . . . his arm draped across her lower hip . . . realizing what had happened the night before.
Oh, god! She couldn't believe what she'd actually done . . . and with Daniel! But then she couldn't help but smile, remembering how incredible it had felt to be with him like that . . . to finally release all of the pent up tension between them and just let go . . . forget about having to leave him and moving to London – London! Her flight! What time was it? 5:30AM!
"Shit!" she exclaimed, loud enough to startle Daniel out of a peaceful slumber.
He sprung up in a state of panic.
"What? Huh?" he looked around, thoroughly confused.
Betty frantically searched for her glasses and clothes.
"I'm going to miss my flight! Damn it! Why didn't you wake me up?" she yelled fastening her bra and pulling on her skirt, fully aware that it wasn't entirely his fault, but not caring at the moment.
"I thought you'd have an alarm or something – I don't know . . ." he half-heartedly defended himself, rubbing his eyes.
"Well I didn't – it's not like I planned this, Daniel! I planned to be home before now with a real alarm clock!" she angrily snapped in frustration, thrusting on her top and shoving her arms into her jacket.
"Where the hell are my panties?" she flipped out, after searching every possible place she could think of. "Screw it! I'll get some out of my suitcase when Hilda brings it and my ticket," she said before Daniel even had the chance to help her look.
"I've gotta go – I'm sorry!" she grabbed her heels and hurriedly ran to the door.
"Betty, wait! You'll never make it in time – not with traffic and all the security they have now," Daniel stopped her as he quickly found his pants and pulled them on, meeting her at the door. "Let me book the Meade jet for you. You can leave after breakfast. We'll have time to talk, you can say a decent 'Goodbye' to your family . . ." he offered, lightly caressing her cheek with his fingertips, his touch sending shivers through her spine.
Betty took a deep, shaky breath and tried to fight it off. His offer, while tempting, wasn't one she needed to accept. She couldn't prolong leaving him anymore. It was time to let him go and move on – no matter how much it hurt to do so.
"Daniel, there's nothing to talk about. What happened between us last night was just an emotional 'Goodbye' between two really close friends – nothing more. We'll be living on two different continents – you have your job, I have mine . . . It's better this way," Betty told him, pulling away. "I'll text you when I land," she insisted before rushing out the door.
She had wanted so badly to kiss him one last time, but knew if she had it wouldn't have been their last.
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"You slept with Daniel?" Hilda exclaimed through the phone, not even bothering to say 'Hi' first.
"What? No! No! Where the hell did you get that?" Betty denied, wondering if Wilhelmina had planted a hidden camera in Daniel's office or something.
"Justin said that yesterday Marc found a pair of black lace panties hanging on the sculpture in Daniel's office," Hilda told her.
Oh, god . . . Wait - maybe no one would figure it out – nobody from MODE knew she hadn't left that night.
"Wh-What makes you think they're mine? They could be anyone's. And why was Marc in Daniel's office on the weekend without him being there, anyway?" Betty tried to change the subject.
"They weren't even close to a Size 0, Betty. I'm not tryin' to be mean or anything, but who else do you know at MODE who isn't? Face it, Mamita – you're busted!" Hilda matter-of-factly informed her sister.
Shit! She was screwed! Marc couldn't keep his freakin' mouth shut about someone daring to eat a bagel with extra cream cheese, much less something as big as this. It'd be plastered all over TMZ by the time she got back from lunch and Suzuki was probably already having a field day with it.
"Anyway, Wilhelmina wanted to check something in the book – which he left unprotected again. And apparently he was so hung up about you leaving that he actually told her where she could find it," Hilda continued.
"Great . . . The last thing he needs is to let Wilhelmina have full reign over him," Betty said.
"Exactly. That bitch has been tryin' to take over MODE since before you started workin' there. You really did a number on him, Betty . . ." she agreed. "So tell me, was he worth it?" she eagerly inquired.
"Hilda!" Betty protested.
"Whaaaat? You honestly think I wasn't gonna expect some juicy details? It's you and Daniel – New York's most eligible millionaire and famous playboy. Did he live up to his reputation?" she wondered.
"Jesus, Hilda! Are you really that hard up for the scoop on my sex life? Okay – bad choice of words. But seriously, do we have to talk about this?" Betty sighed, really not wanting to get into it.
"Yes, we do. Now at least tell me this – are you happy you did it?" she pried.
"Yeah – no – maybe . . . I don't know . . . Us being together like that was amazing, but I keep thinking we made a mistake . . . because I miss him," Betty confessed.
"Mamita . . . you need to talk to him. Tell him – I'm sure you two can work it out. You can't keep this from him – I'm sure he's struggling with it, too. I mean, you guys have been close for as long as I can remember and now you've taken it to another level . . . You can't expect to walk away and not feel anything afterwards," Hilda reasoned with her.
"I guess I should've thought things through before I practically jumped him," she groaned.
"Ay! Chica, you are one bad ass!" Hilda giggled.
"Not helping, Hilda!" Betty sighed, leaning back on the couch as her sister continued to gossip about more news she had missed in the past two days.
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It had almost been a week since Betty had left New York. Shockingly, Marc had given her a break and kept her secret to himself. She wondered if he was feeling okay, but didn't bother to question a miracle. Plus, she had been so inundated with the work and stress of starting a magazine from the ground up that her mind couldn't afford to think of anything else – especially Daniel - during the day.
However, she would lay awake nights, unable to fully sleep. Had she done the right thing? Of course she had done the right thing. This was her dream job and Daniel had his own life in New York. He didn't need her . . . he was just afraid of flying solo after four years of having her as his crutch. What had happened between them that night was simply a passionate end to their extremely close friendship - that was it.
But why did she continue to fantasize about him holding her in his arms again . . . remember exactly how his lips tasted . . . the smell of his cologne . . . the feel of his heated skin against hers . . . She missed him – not just his body, but him – his boyish grin when he teased her, his smile when he was genuinely happy or proud, his charm, his stubbornness, his endearing protectiveness of the people he cared most for, the way he didn't always know the right thing to say or do but somehow ended up winning her over every time . . . She really needed to focus on something else, someone else. Daniel was an ocean away and that was the way it needed to be.
What if she had stayed? What if she and Daniel had decided to pursue a romantic relationship? As intriguing as the idea sounded, it would only have ended in resentment, because she would have missed her opportunity to break free of MODE and achieve her goal. Then, there would go their friendship and her career.
No – this was the right choice. She and Daniel wouldn't be as close anymore, but at least she'd still have an opportunity to make a difference as a full-fledged EIC. They'd still see each other during holidays and be able to email each other – it wasn't like they were in love . . . just attracted to each other. That was all it was – lust and nostalgia. Hilda was wrong – she didn't need to call Daniel. It would only make things worse.
As a distraction, she tried to come up with a name for her magazine to present to Lindsay. It was a younger person's 'New Yorker' . . . so maybe 'Young British Hopefuls'? . . . No . . . 'London Modern'? . . . 'Inspire'? – maybe . . . Oh well, she'd just run it by Daniel in the morning – he'd have some insight.
Daniel . . . Damn it! There he was again, dominating not only her personal thoughts, but her business ones, too. Only, it was inevitable that she'd be thinking of him when it came to business. She'd never done anything without getting his opinion – even if she didn't really need it. She had always valued his thoughts. They had had a mutual admiration of each other's talent.
But now, she couldn't bounce ideas off of him. She honestly wasn't sure she could even talk to him about anything at this point. It was too awkward . . . the memory was too fresh in her mind – probably his as well. She got up and turned on the TV in the living room, hoping to eventually drift off to sleep on the couch.
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"Marc said Daniel's been mopey all week and has let Wilhelmina pretty much do whatever she's wanted to lately. All he does is stare at your guy's picture from the wedding and lurk around yours and Marc's office. And he didn't even show up this morning," Hilda told Betty over the phone.
Betty continued to walk through the city, reaching Trafalgar Square.
"He didn't?" she said, shocked. She thought he'd be okay, given it'd been a week. Sure, she knew he had feelings for her, but none that a gorgeous woman and a competent new Features editor couldn't cure.
"You need to call him, Betty," Hilda insisted.
"What makes you think I didn't?" Betty stalled.
"Um . . . Daniel's still a wreck and you don't sound so hot yourself – isn't that a big enough clue?" Hilda countered.
"Look I don't think it's –" Betty began. "Oops! Sorry!" she apologized as she ran into someone.
"Betty," Daniel greeted her.
"Hilda, I'll call you back . . ." Betty slowly said, hanging up, shocked that he was standing right in front of her.
"Daniel! Wh-What are you doing here?" she wondered.
"Can we go somewhere and talk?" he asked.
"Yeah . . ." Betty motioned to the almost secluded steps.
As they sat down, Betty expectantly looked at him.
"I quit MODE," Daniel told her.
"What? Why? And please don't tell me it had anything to do with me," Betty demanded an explanation.
"I can't do that, Betty. It was partially because of you – without you there . . . I didn't care anymore. You were the one who always inspired me to succeed in that magazine. I never wanted that job in the first place, but you made me care about it. I don't know what I want to do now . . . but I do know who I want, and it's you," Daniel confessed.
Betty almost choked on her chewing gum. This wasn't supposed to happen . . . this wasn't how things were supposed to play out . . .
"Daniel . . . you can't just quit your job because we had one night of great sex," Betty carefully took in his explanation. "Why do you have to complicate things?" she groaned, wondering if he had learned anything in the past four years.
"Betty, things got complicated the second we made love," he pointed out.
"It was sex, Daniel," she adamantly insisted.
She wondered if it wasn't more to convince herself than him.
"No! It was more than that – and you know it! I could see it in your eyes that night – you felt it too," Daniel maintained.
"I-I've gotten pretty good at faking it," she lied.
Oh, god! Did she really say that?
But instead of taking it as an insult, Daniel appeared to be smirking it off, almost amused.
"You're lying. I know you – I can read your mind just like you can read mine. I know your expressions . . . I know your body language . . . I know every . . . part . . . of you . . ." he told her, quietly yet confidently, running his finger along her cheek, down her lips, over her arm. "And I know you felt what I felt that night," he inched closer to her with every word, his eyes challenging hers.
Betty turned away and lowered her head, nervously staring at the black dots on her white stilettos. Maybe if she stared long enough at them she could hypnotize herself out of this situation.
"You're right . . . I wasn't faking it. But apparently you don't know me as well as you think you do, because you've got me all wrong about the rest. H-How can you expect me to react to this? I have a life here now, Daniel! Unlike you, I'm not going to throw away my career because there might be something more between us besides coffee, editing, and karaoke. Are you crazy?" her anger built up.
"Yes! If you wanna put it that way, I am crazy – about you!" he admitted.
Damn it! Why did he have to make this so hard on her . . .?
"I, uh, I can't deal with this, Daniel," she told him, trying not to cry.
"You're scared, Betty. You probably had this plan and the fact that this wasn't part of it is throwing you off. You don't like change – not being prepared. But you and I both know that life always throws us surprises – and some of them can be really . . . good . . ." he reasoned, cradling her chin in his hands.
His lips found their way to hers, his tongue expertly parting them, grazing her teeth before entering the warmth of her mouth, kissing her until her body went limp from pleasure.
"Look me in the eye, Betty, and tell me you didn't feel that," he demanded, unwilling to back down.
"I –" she struggled whether to cave or to allow her inhibitions continue to control her.
The clock chimed, as if knowing she needed an opportunity to step back and think things over.
"I have to get back to work . . ." she told him.
"Tonight – dinner? We need to finish this," he proposed, determined to break her resolve.
"I can't," she answered, but then noticed the look of defeat forming on his face. "I've got a launch party to go to for one of our sister magazines," she explained.
"Oh," he said, disappointedly.
She sighed, hating how much power he had over her.
"You could come . . . make a few new contacts, catch up with some old?" she offered.
His blue eyes immediately lit up.
"But that doesn't mean we're . . . you know – a couple or anything," she clarified.
"Got it. It's just a date," he smiled.
"You're my Plus 1, Daniel. Please don't make it into anything more than it is," she corrected him.
"And if it happens to become something else?" he playfully pushed.
She handed him her address.
"Just pick me up at 7PM," she warned, fighting a smile as she walked down the steps.
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The more she thought about everything, the more infuriated she became. How dare he quit his job and come here and tell her that he wanted more? How dare he deem her responsible? If anything went wrong with their relationship, it'd be all her fault for causing him to give up his career and his family . . . What the hell was he thinking? He was so impulsive – one night with her and he bolted off to London to follow her? Was he that desperate?
And she was mad at herself. Why hadn't she tried harder to resist him? Why had she melted at his touch and a mere look from his piercing blue eyes? Why had she invited him to a launch party? It was as if she had become as susceptible to his charm as every pea-brained model he'd screwed over the years. The difference, she concluded, was that she wanted more than just sex. She cared about Daniel, himself – not his money or his fame and what it could get her.
She knew she deserved to be happy, and she could see Daniel doing that for her. Only, what about his happiness? He had sacrificed it to be with her. That was a lot of pressure. She wasn't convinced she was ready to take it on. If things didn't work out, their friendship and his life would be ruined. Was pursuing whatever they had worth it? But turning him down . . . never taking that chance . . . always wondering 'What if?' . . . She buried her head on her desk, wishing she knew the right thing to do.